This short story is an entry in the 2001 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Adult
Abaelardo Heloysa
By
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"Domino suo, immo patri;
coniugi suo, immo fratri; ancilla sua, immo filia; ipsius uxor, immo soror, Abaelardo Heloysa." |
You wouldn't believe the weather today. Air smells like French perfume, wind is warm and torpid; it's too hot even in my jeans and T-shirt - just the right weather for cuddling lazily on freshly cut grass, somewhere in the public garden. We would lean our backs against the fountain's border, stretch and entwine our legs, and quietly immerse ourselves into ice-cream cones. Chocolate for you, vanilla for me. Elderly ladies would saunter by, taken for a walk by their dogs and grandkids. They would pay us no attention beside an occasional cursory glance, only seeing what we look like from the distance: a man and a girl in idle relaxation, silent in balmy evening heat.
They wouldn't know and couldn't care that even when we are silent, we are talking. They wouldn't notice me gasp lightly when I accidentally shift weight, forgetting a sore spot born by your palm not so long ago, and wouldn't see your satisfied smirk as you see me wince.
'Wicked,' I would think, licking my ice-cream.
'Yes,' you would think back with a pat on my thigh.
'But so am I,' I'd think, raising my face to you and baring my teeth in a wide grin.
'Yes. So are you,' your thoughts would reply.
And I would know that later, when we are back home, wherever home is, you'd light new blaze on my bottom, because this is the way our world is.
Today's weather is the wrongest kind for work. We would work hard all day, and then take the evening off, signing each other's permits to gallivant to our hearts' content. We would finish our ice-cream, keeping up the same inaudible conversation; at times you would frown at your worries, and I would reassure you secretly, and you would do the same for me when spring air would make me feel unexpectedly restless. I would plan this evening's mischief. You would contemplate on condign retribution. I would see it in your eyes and falter.
The words spoken out loud would be too ordinary to attract attention. "Do you reckon we need milk?" - "Naah."
'Hug?'
'Of course'.
You would hold me, and I would hold you, sad and happy thoughts intertwined; you would probably wonder how we look from the distance, I would smile, picturing elderly ladies' disapproving convictions.
They can well disapprove.
We would wander home, spring smells carrying us through the streets. You would squeeze. I would pout. We would have an evening before us, with windows wide open, and no neighbours to worry about. Duties would be back tomorrow morning, but not until then. And then we would have tomorrow evening to wait for. Today was meant to be spent together, warm and fragrant, one day of a kind.
There are special days in December too.
The End
© Copyright Alana Haron Goldstein, Summer, 2001
Archivist's note: Haron posted a followup to this story stating: That was a quote, actually.
| "To her master, nay father, to her husband, nay brother; his handmaid, nay daughter, his spouse, nay sister: to Abelard, Heloise." |
Reviews
Needy Wench <needywench(at)hotmail(dot)com>
I wish I knew what the quote in the beginning meant. I tried to get it translated, without success. I think the story stands without it, though, with wonderful references to the wordless communication between two lovers. It left me feeling contented, because "this is the way our world is."
Jodi <ladiejj(at)webtv(dot)net>
The author does a great job conveying a whole hidden conversation using no dialogue.. Using small details to show us the body language as well as to set the scene. I feel that it is the small details that make this a good story. The author also does a good job in establishing the forbidden aspect of this story. The organization and flow is very well done.